Once Upon A Time
by wincasters
Summary: Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a young Prince, a Knight, and the dragon that brought them together. Klaine AU Fairytale.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

* * *

><p>Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a young Prince. He was tall and lithe, though with age his shoulders had begun to broaden. He was not yet a man, but no longer a child; he was caught in the awkward in-between of ages, and left to feel slightly outcast in his own Kingdom. It was not merely his body, or his age, that left him feeling such a way – it was how he had never shown an interest in any Princess to come to court, how he only offered a perfunctory dance, and would spend the rest of his evening with bright eyes that lingered on the more handsome, distinctly <em>male<em> nobles. As the Prince grew older, and more time passed without a single Princess earning more than once glance, the low murmurings to the subjects rumbled quietly through the streets.

His unquestionable royalty was respected, and his odd demeanor scrutinized by his people. He was different in a world accustomed to dashing princes who rescued damsels in distress. Princes who married and reproduced gratuitously, who became the stuff of legends and stories told to dozing children. Things, and people, that were different were treated with trepidation.

But the young Prince had once had a mother. She had been the most beautiful and kind Queen to ever grace their land. She had loved her son deeply every moment of her life, knowing from the instant of his birth that he would be unique. The Queen spent hours each day showing the young Prince the beauty of nature, how wonderful things were when they were true. She impressed upon him the importance of loving himself, of being unapologetically him, even when the rest of the world was full of judgment.

When she passed into the Realm of Light, far too soon for anyone's liking, she left a heartbroken King and son by her bedside. They vowed, clasped within each other's arms, to uphold her teachings and ideals in their Kingdom. Their subjects were encouraged to practice acceptance, and brought before the King himself if any committed acts of intolerance. The Prince knew that the murmurs around the Kingdom were based in curiosity, and not in spite.

For the most part.

There were, and always would be, individuals who were stuck in their ways, who spoke of the unusual Prince with derision, but none so bold as to publically insult royalty.

Eventually, the King found a noble woman that caught his gaze. She had kind eyes, a warm smile, and gentle hands that treated the King with care and soothed away the hard lines of worry from his face. She, too, had a son, a tall and handsome fellow that eyed the Prince warily at times.

It was nothing unusual, but the Prince was still glad when the odd glances stopped completely after they became brothers. The wedding had been a grand affair, full of romance and love and joy and song, and the Prince felt peace within the world as he smiled and laughed with his newfound family.

Unfortunately, as it is with all good things, it didn't last.

Which is why the Prince stood in the courtyard of the castle, watching the shadow of the massive dragon swarm across the earth. The beast was black as midnight, eyes a burning red, and the roar it let loose rattled the Prince down into his bones. Bright sea-colored eyes tracked the dragon's every motion, and the man breathed out a sour sounding, "Oh, hell."

And, as important as his life had been, this, my dears, is where the story of Prince Kurt _really_ gets interesting.


	2. Chapter One

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

* * *

><p>Kurt braced his hands against the wide base of the window, eyes flickering over towards the mountain where he knew the dragon to be hiding. Throughout the day, the occasional curls of smoke could be seen escaping from the mouth of a cave near the peak, a gray and dismal reminder of the beast's presence in their kingdom. He could just barely see the black spot of the cave in the distance, and watched it closely for any sign of movement.<p>

The dragon never truly attacked the Kingdom, choosing instead to circle menacingly around the castle. Occasionally, it would let loose a growl so thunderous that it shook the stone foundation to its core.

A tall shadow, taller than even his own, fell over Kurt as his brother came to stand behind him. "Anything?" Finn asked, the tension thick in his voice.

"Obviously not, or I would have sounded the alarm," Kurt said, bitingly. A few seconds of silence followed this remark before a tentative hand slid over one of his shoulders, soothing away some of the tension. Kurt wilted under his brother's hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "It's just…every day that this monster is here, tormenting us, is another day I think I should go after it. To prove myself worthy of the crown, once and for all."

"Leave that to the knights," Finn urged, tightening his grip as if to keep Kurt from leaving the castle in that instant. "There's no reason to put yourself in danger, Kurt."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, gaze never leaving the dragon's lair. "What kind of King will I be if I always let others fight my battles?"

Suddenly, movement on the mountain. The black spot seemed to expand as the dragon filled the mouth of the cave, wings extended outward as it prepared for flight. Kurt tensed immediately, breaking out from underneath Finn's hand and rushing towards the staircase he knew would take him to the castle's tallest tower. By the time he had finished sprinting up the large stone stairwell, chest heaving and lungs working desperately for air, the dragon had begun to move through the air. Kurt threw open the twin wooden doors at the back of the tower room and stepped into the sun, royal garb and crown glittering in the light of day.

He was a beacon, coaxing the dragon over. Kurt stood defiant, shoulders thrown back and knees shaking as the bursts of wind created by the dragon's wings pushed against him.

The beast circled overhead, one impossibly large red eye trained on the Prince until an ugly smirk pulled at thin, reptilian lips and exposed a sharp and dangerous smile. The monster made a fast descent, landing on the wall in front of the tower with heavy force. One massive claw curled over the edge of the stone balcony and the dragon leaned in, rancid breath huffing out of two overly large nostrils.

"Well, well," it said, turning an eye towards Kurt. The pupil flickered up and down as it gave him a once over. "What do we have here? A brave little princess?"

"Prince, actually," Kurt said, arching an eyebrow with false bravado. He jerked his chin up with a small sniff. "I am not a woman, in case that escaped your notice."

A serpentine tongue flickered out in delight. "Oh," said the dragon, its tone rumbling low and full of condescension. Kurt heard, behind him, the sound of Finn and a few armed guardsmen clamoring into the tower room. "That's not what I've heard," it continued, cocking its giant head in mocking appraisal. "I've been made to understand that you have a fair bit more in common with the ladies-in-waiting than your more…rugged counterparts."

Rage and cold fear prickled up and down Kurt's spine, but he fought to keep his face neutral as he replied, simply, "Your point being?"

Something angry burst into life in the beast's eyes, and a flower of orange and yellow coloring blossomed around slit pupils. Long, sharp teeth were bared in Kurt's face as the dragon turned to face him head on. Covering its right eye was a long and ugly looking gash, and it was the first time that Kurt noticed a milky tint to the angry red. _Blind,_ he realized, _it's blind in one eye._ "So brave," it hissed, tongue flickering out. "The brave ones are always the most fun. You can very nearly taste their fear at the end." The tongue extended slowly towards Kurt, who flinched away.

A horrible laugh shook the ground beneath his feet, and Kurt felt the guards on either side of him raise their weapons, ready to attack at a moment's notice. Finn stood in the arch of the door, close by if needed but out of danger's reach. His hands pushed against stone, wishing he could go to his brother but unable to risk the lives of two royals.

Kurt raised a hand to ward the guards away and kept his eyes trained on the dragon. "You scare me," he told the beast, bluntly. "Don't worry, your big, bad dragon routine is terrifying. I'd have to be a masochist to try and tell you otherwise. Quite frankly, I'm extremely frightened of you. But somewhere, there's somebody who isn't." He took a step towards the dragon. "And I will find them. And then we will find you. And everyone knows how these sort of stories end. Here's a hint: I win."

Tendrils of smoke curled out from the dragon's nostrils, and with one great flap of suddenly unfurled wings, the beast launched itself into the sky. "Oh, Princess," it sneered, looming dangerously above. "What a lovely grave you've dug for yourself. I'm sure your mother will appreciate your company in the Light Realm. You'll be seeing her soon enough. Mark my words."

With one last roar, filled with rage and promise, the dragon turned and flew back towards the mountains. Its body swooped and dove, eventually disappearing beyond the peaks.

Kurt's knees buckled beneath him, and only Finn's strong arms suddenly wrapping around him kept him upright. "What were you thinking?" Finn spat out, hauling his brother back into the safety of the tower room. "You don't purposefully make a dragon angry with you unless you have a death wish! Kurt, it's going to kill you now. It _promised_." Finn released him and paced along the stone floor, large hands running through his hair. "You just guaranteed yourself an early passage to the Light."

"Finn," Kurt said, voice tight enough to stop the other man in his tracks. "Don't mention this to my father." He glanced sharply over at the guards. "Any of you tell my father, and there will be hell to pay. I can handle this on my own."

"You'll die!" Finn shouted, coming closer. "Do you even care what that will do to your father? To my mother, to me? To the people that _love_ you?"

"Maybe I will die," Kurt agreed readily, and started for the stairs. "I could die from any number of things. But, probably not from an angry dragon."

"How…why wouldn't you die from this, Kurt? You just provoked it, made it swear that it would kill you. How do you expect to survive this?"

"It didn't kill me," Kurt burst out, turning on his heel and glaring up at Finn. "It could have dug its claws into my chest, eaten me on the spot, set me on fire, but it struck up a conversation. Maybe I'll get hurt, injured, burnt, but that…" he waved a hand toward the mountains, still visible through the balcony doors. "…thing, is as much of a killer as I am."

And with that, he turned and marched down the stairs.

Finn stared after him, determined.


	3. Chapter Two

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

* * *

><p>Kurt's art tutor made an irritated noise deep in his throat when the heavy wooden doors to the classroom swung open. "What could possibly be so important," Sir Ryerson began, before his eyes flew open wide and he stooped into a low, dramatic bow.<p>

Kurt turned in his seat, fingers smudged black and gray with charcoal, and shared and amused look with his father.

"Your majesty," Sir Ryerson gasped with reverence, his face almost pressed into the dusty floor. "A thousand apologies, your grace, I had no idea…"

The King waved a hand, dismissing the tutor without ever taking his eyes off of his son. "Kurt, come with me. There's someone I want you to meet."

Kurt cocked his head, curious, but didn't question his father even as he rose and followed him out of the room and into the corridor.

"How are your lessons?" the King asked, clasping a warm hand around Kurt's shoulder.

"They're going well," Kurt said, leaning happily into his father's touch. "My charcoal is getting better, even if Sir Ryerson doesn't think so. A vast improvement over the straight line figures I used to draw with sticks and dirt as a child." He reached into this tunic pocket, wrapping his dirty fingers around parchment and pulling it out to hand to his father.

The King took the dirty and creased paper from Kurt and unfolded it as they walked. He could feel his son's nervous gaze on him as he slowly opened up the parchment.

"It's from memory," Kurt said, quickly, and almost apologetically.

King Burton III (affectionately known as Burt by his second Queen and his step-son) felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes traced over the smudged, gray depiction of his late wife and Kurt's mother. He cast his arm back around his son's shoulders, having removed it in order to open the drawing. He pressed a hard kiss to his son's temple, dislodging the thin crown that adorned his head. Kurt flushed happily and reached up to keep his crown from falling off completely. "You can keep it," he breathed, shrugging and ducking his head under his father's proud gaze. "I have others."

"This is amazing," his father told him, serious and insistent. "Your mother would be so proud. I _am_ so proud." His gaze turned fierce and he stopped them both. He held Kurt's shoulders in both hands, connecting their eyes. "I love you, Kurt. And that's why I need to keep you safe."

Kurt's face became drawn and pinched, very quickly. "I assume you're talking about the dragon."

"I am," Burt confirmed, "Your brother told me it's taken an interest in you."

Kurt blanched, mentally sending Finn to his death in a thousand different fashions. "Father – "

"I won't lose you, Kurt." His tone brooked no arguments. "You will do as I tell you."

He clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir."

The King nodded to the attendant that was waiting patiently outside of the King's study, and the page dutifully opened the heavy door to them.

Kurt followed his father inside, knowing the instant eyes were upon him that he must have looked a sight, with his fingers, face, and tunic smeared with charcoal, and crown askew against his thick hair. He gave a short nod to his father's advisors, crowded around the grand desk and muttering amongst themselves. His eyes drew themselves to a tall figure leaning against a bookshelf, body halfway hidden by a great wingback chair. The person's sharp eyes were fixed on him from underneath short cropped, flaxen hair.

"Lady Sylvester!" Kurt breathed, crossing over to his weapon's tutor and embracing her quickly. She merely patted him on the back twice and gave a small bemused smile down at the top of his head.

"Your highness," she said, pulling away. Her mouth and shoulders were tight and serious but her eyes looked at the Prince with thinly veiled affection. "I trust Sir Figgins has been incompetent and worthless in your training?"

Kurt gave a little grin and winked at his mentor. "As always."

She awarded him with another small smile. Lady Sylvester was the only female knight in his father's court, and the only one that he even knew of. She was easily the most well qualified knight, and was fiercely protective of her charge. She was so absolutely talented with any weapon placed in her capable hands, that the King had ignored the scandalized outrage and knighted her, and entrusted her with the one thing he valued about all others: Kurt's life.

Lady Sylvester was feared and respected to a point where it seemed sometimes as though Kurt was the only one to treat her with a degree of normalcy.

"Porcelain," she said, tone strictly business. The corners of Kurt's lips twitched up in a small smile at the use of his old nickname. "It has come to my attention that while I was on a mission for your father, you gained some…unwanted attention. Of the fire breathing variety." She folded her arms over her shirt and shrugged. "Now, normally, I'd be telling your father to go ahead and throw the dragon a limb or two, what's one less idiot in the Kingdom?" She stared at him, mouth pressed into a hard line. "But, it's threatened someone that I care about, and now it must pay." She nodded at something over Kurt's shoulder, and it was only then that he realized there was someone seated in the chair behind him.

Slowly, as if in tandem, Kurt turned around and the stranger rose from his seat.

The first thing Kurt saw was a pair of bright, wide hazel eyes that looked as though they were carefully guarding a million secrets within the irises. Then, he noticed the full lips, pressed together and then parting just a hair's width, hypnotizing Kurt with their movement. This stranger was a few inches shorter than himself, with thick and unruly dark curls that seemed to halo out around his head. The way he held himself, calm and assured, reminded Kurt of the way his knights stood, legs apart and hands clasped firmly by their sides. But, this stranger was wearing a peasant's garb, something a knight would never do.

"Your highness," the stranger said, bowing his head to Kurt.

"This is Sir Blaine Anderson," Lady Sylvester said, coming to stand next to the two of them. "He's faced this monster before. Did a fair bit of damage, from what I understand."

"You're a knight?" Kurt asked, tilting his head in curiosity. "Not from my father's court, though. Another Kingdom?" Blaine gave a short nod, eyes trained firmly on Kurt's own. "What are you doing here?"

"A story for another time, maybe," Blaine said, softly, and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. "There are larger, more dangerous, and fire-prone matters to tend to. Namely, the dragon."

Kurt looked over towards his father's advisors, who had begun to argue loudly in their corner. He gestured towards the open door that led to the hall, and said, "Shall we?" Blaine nodded his acquiescence and the two of them moved out of the room to finish their conversation. Lady Sylvester followed not too far behind. "So, you've fought this thing before?"

"Defended myself," Blaine corrected, and crossed his arms over his chest. "It attacked the Kingdom I used to serve for. I was merely doing my duty. It was about to come after the Princess, and I had my broadsword."

"Its eye," Kurt breathed, the pieces clicking into place in his mind. "You…blinded the dragon?"

Blaine turned a little towards Kurt, and his eyes lingered on the smudge of charcoal blurred along one cheekbone. He resisted the urge to lick his thumb and wipe the mark from the Prince's cheek, but only just barely. "I did my damnedest to," he admitted, and clenched his hand by his side. It was just _itching_ to touch. "It was odd. I thought I'd be in the Light Realm for sure after that, but it just flew away."

"It certainly doesn't seem to be your typical sort of dragon," Kurt said, agreeing with the knight. "I had an actual conversation with it the other day."

Blaine frowned at that, ducking his head in contemplation. Their walking slowed to a stop in front of a large bay window, overlooking the small lake just beyond the castle walls. Kurt stood there, bathed in sunlight and dirty hands clasped behind his back, and Blaine took the chance to look over his new charge. His eyes studied the Prince's profile, and felt his breath catch in a dangerous way when he found himself monitoring the movement of the taller man's eyelashes. He shook his head, sending wayward curls flying, and looked out the window for himself.

"If I'm going to trust you," Kurt said, not turning to look at Blaine. "If I'm going to trust you, with my life, I need to know things about you." He arched a brow at their reflections. "Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, I'll need to know about you."

Blaine nodded, knowing the movement would be caught both in the glass window and in Kurt's peripheral. A smile tugged at the Prince's lips.

"I'm afraid I have to go finish my drawing lesson," he said, and much to Blaine's surprise, dipped his head in a small bow. "I trust I'll see you later." And then, he turned on his heel and left.

Blaine followed him with his eyes, watching until the taut line of the Prince's back disappeared around a corner. He jumped slightly when a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. Lady Sylvester, known throughout the land as a master of weaponry, infamous for her skill, frowned down at his hair.

"Well," she said, wrapping a curl around one finger and pulling none-too-gently. "This won't do at all. You look like you have moss growing out of your scalp." She bared a frightening grin. "We'll just have to fix this."


	4. Chapter Three

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

* * *

><p>Kurt was in his bedroom, perched inside of the large window, when the knock sounded at his door. He looked up from his sketching, tilted his head into the hazy beams of sun, and called out, "You may enter."<p>

The door slid open with a muffled slide, and a head poked through the space provided. Kurt squinted through the glare of the sun, trying his best to see who it was. Giving up after a few moments, he set his drawing supplies aside with a sigh and swung his legs around so that he could stand. He took a few steps forward, as did the figure in the doorway, and when the light stopping blinding him completely and Kurt could see who it was, he stopped in his tracks.

His breath caught in his chest. "Sir…" He cleared his throat, trying to pretend his voice hadn't faltered. "Sir Anderson."

The knight bowed his head, showing off his newly cropped hair to Kurt's interested eye. He looked far more put together now than the last (and first) time that they had laid eyes upon each other. His hair was tamed to an appropriate length, his face had been scrubbed clean, and he was in more formal knight's clothing (an improvement over the peasant garb he'd been clad in previously).

"Your highness," he said, and fixed Kurt with his soft gaze. "Please, don't call me Sir Anderson. I'm not a knight of any court, least of all your father's. It's not right to address me with that title."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at that. "But Lady Sylvester introduced you as…" He shook his head and gestured towards two large chairs that faced one another, set in front of his fireplace. Blaine settled into one, posture stiff and face displaying the slight discomfort he felt at being in the personal quarters of a member of the royal family.

Kurt crossed one leg over the other and perched his elbow on his knee, cupping his cheek in one hand. "If you aren't a knight," he said, running his eyes over Blaine's stoic face. "Why would Lady Sylvester introduce you that way? She isn't one to make mistakes, especially when it comes to her brothers in arm." He paused, cataloguing Blaine's reaction and watching the strain of the other man's knuckles as he clenched his fists. "You were a knight once, though, weren't you? Where you come from, you were a knight."

Blaine nodded stiffly and Kurt curled his legs underneath of the rest of his body and leaned in towards Blaine, his face open and trusting. "You can tell me, you know," he said carefully. "We aren't like most kingdoms. We care about each other. No one will condemn you for your past, or how you lived your life." He turned his gaze to one of the drawings perched above his fireplace, smiling at the gray caricature of his mother's smile. "If we did, I'd have been cast out of my own Kingdom long ago."

Something in Blaine shifted at that, and his eyes warmed slightly as his fingers unfurled. Kurt smiled at him and then looked back towards his drawings.

"I was a knight," Blaine began, slowly. "You're right about that. I was considered a bit of a protégé, to be honest. I outshined all of my fellow knights-in-training. I killed men on the battlefield with getting barely a scratch myself. So, when the dragon came to the Kingdom, the one where I used to live, it did much of the same as it is here. I was sent out on a scouting mission. Routine, basic, and about as boring as confronting a dragon could possibly be. I came across its cave entirely by accident, though I'll deny it if anyone ever asks, and managed to startle it. Badly." Blaine stared at a spot over Kurt's shoulder, his concentration unwavering. "It struck out, swept me aside with its claws and knocked me into the cave walls." His right hand drifted to his left side, fingers ghosting down his ribs as if in memory of an injury. "I swung out with my sword, caught its eye, and…" His gaze flickered towards Kurt briefly. "Well. You saw."

"You blinded it," Kurt confirmed, leaning toward Blaine a fraction of an inch. "And then…"

Abruptly, Blaine stood from the chair and began pacing. It startled Kurt enough to make him lean away until his spine connected with the back of his chair.

Blaine's hands clasped behind his back as he moved, and his lips tightened and pursed as if he were struggling for words. The movements fascinated Kurt to no end.

And, as suddenly as he had begun moving, Blaine's shoulders slumped down and he lowered himself back into his chair. He seemed to either right before Kurt's eyes, and the Prince found that he didn't like it one single bit.

Blaine cupped his cheek in one hand and looked at Kurt with eyes that seemed too old and weary for someone so young.

"I ran," he admitted, voice soft. "Away from the dragon. Away from the fight, and away from the glory. I should have killed it. I was meant to kill it. But I…I had intruded on its home, caught it by surprise, and blinded it in its own safe haven. Killing it when it had been trying to defend its home, and when I was the only one in the entire Kingdom that it had ever injured…it didn't feel right. So I limped home, like…" He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together. The words were quiet, almost inaudible, as they fell from his lips. "…like a coward."

He held himself very still and very determinedly avoided looking at the Prince. Kurt didn't understand the posturing or the rigidity of Blaine's spine, until he suddenly _did_.

"I won't punish you," he said, infusing as much warmth into his voice as he could. "Not for running away from a dragon. Not for practicing self-preservation when you were injured and alone."

Blaine was staring at him with open mouthed incredulity, lips gaping apart much like a fish's would.

"Is that why you left?" Kurt pressed.

The knight came to himself with a heavy lidded blink. "No. Not directly, anyway. I was given a hero's welcome, and sent to the Royal Healer to tend to my injuries. I recalled my story to the King and a rapt audience." He made a noise of disgust and looked up at Kurt with fierce, tear-bright hazel eyes. "They saw a hero. All I could see was silver blood drying underneath my fingernails. Did you know a dragon's blood is silver? It's one of the most beautiful, pure things I have ever seen in this lifetime. And I spilt it." A tear, gathered and trembling on the lower lashes of his right eye, finally down his face, streaking the flushed skin with its descent. "It's absolutely gorgeous, and it has healing properties. My wounds healed unnaturally fast, faster than our Healer could have managed, because of bloodshed I caused." He shook his head, hanging it low and threading fingers through his tresses. His shoulders trembled, and Kurt realized with an uncomfortable, sinking feeling that the man was _crying_.

What kind of knight _was_ he?

Slowly, deliberately, Kurt moved from where he sat, down into a kneeling position by Blaine's side. He slid a hand over the Blaine's knee, fingers dragging on the rough fabric of his trousers. Blaine instantly tensed under his grip and from his angle Kurt could see the movement of Blaine's eyelashes as he looked at the area of contact.

"Your highness," he said, still not looking at Kurt. His voice was choked sounding. "You should _not_ be kneeling before me. It isn't –"

"Proper?" Kurt asked, and moved his thumb in a soothing sweep over the side of Blaine's kneecap. "I told you. We don't have your typical social limitations or expectations here. Not to say that my family, or the monarchy, aren't important. They are. But positions of power or no, the people of this land do their best to treat each other as equals. And, I'm not saying that I don't enjoy the privileges of being a Prince. I do, I most certainly do. But we…we don't…" He paused, struggling for words. "We don't _hate_ here, Blaine. No matter what."

Blaine's breathing was ragged and thick with tears. One of his hands dropped from his hair, leaving an array of curls sticking up in its wake. He twined his fingers around Kurt's. Encouraged, Kurt shifted closer.

"Whatever you did, Blaine; whatever they thought was awful enough to send you out, or whatever you thought was worth leaving for – it doesn't matter. Not here, Blaine."

The words burst forth, as if Blaine couldn't contain them any longer. "I didn't want—to be…I didn't want to be a knight. My father, my family…a damned legacy of knights. Every first born son is trained for knighthood from the time that they can wield a broadsword or a mace. It's what was expected of me, and I didn't want it. I tried, believe me, I _tried_ to want it. I practiced every day, for…for hours, just so I could excel and make my father proud. But I wasn't happy."

"I'm sorry," Kurt breathed. "Is that why you left? Your father?"

Blaine's grasp on him became almost painful. Kurt didn't know if he was holding onto him so ferociously as a source of comfort, or because he was afraid that Kurt would leave. Either way, Kurt squeezed back with equal force, until their whitened knuckles were indistinguishable from one another.

"There are…things I cannot tell you, your highness. Things I am not comfortable saying while I do not know you. I will, one day, I swear it. But for now, all I can do is help you with the dragon."

"Fair enough," Kurt whispered, giving Blaine what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Tell me what I need in order to face this."

Silence descended upon them for an indeterminate amount of time. Finally, Blaine spoke, his clasp on Kurt becoming softer and more familiar with every passing second.

"Courage, Kurt. You need to have courage."

OOOOO

Later, in the pitch black of the midnight hours, a rope ladder was flung from an opened window. A dark head slowly emerged, ensuring there were no guards to witness his escaped, and a tall figure climbed out of the window and made its descent.

When he reached the edge of the forest just beyond the castle, Kurt hitched his pack over his shoulders. He had his sword sheathed by his side, his rationings of food, and the few jars of Healing Salve that he had managed to commandeer from Rachel. Kurt looked back at the castle and ran a hand through his thick hair, feeling oddly naked without the weight of his crown.

He watched the dim flicker of firelight illuminate the window to Blaine's quarters. He watched, intent and hoping to catch a glimpse of Blaine, but when none came, he turned, resolute.

_Courage_, he reminded himself, and then was submerged in the blackened shadows of the forest.


	5. Chapter Four

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

* * *

><p>Kurt had estimated his journey to be a full day by foot. He wasn't exactly correct in his calculation; he hadn't anticipated the foot bridge over the small river to have collapsed, forcing him to walk five miles upstream in order to cross over, using a line of precariously balanced rocks. It had delayed him, certainly, but the trip and fall he'd taken on a steep hill had landed him in a nest of irritable pixies. He rolled up his slightly tattered sleeves and examined the small bite marks he'd acquired during the half-hour long tussle.<p>

He licked the pad of his thumb and rubbed at what dried blood he could see in the dim light of the fire. He really wasn't one for the wilderness, often rejecting his father's invitations to go on hunts, but Blaine's story had struck a chord deep inside of him. The knight had left his quarters not long after his words of advice, leaving Kurt to sit and stew in his own thoughts.

Following dinner that evening, which he'd spent alternating his gaze between Blaine, his meal, and the window framing the mountain he was currently headed towards, he had crept away to the Healer's quarters and stolen three jars of healing salve. Rachel would probably hex him to within an inch of his life should she ever know, but he wasn't going to take his chances by not bringing any along.

He was lucky to have had the foresight of bringing his warmest cloak, and was currently cocooned in the thick fabric, using his pack underneath his head as a pillow. He stared into the fire. His mind, unbidden, drifted back towards Blaine. He had found himself thinking about the mysterious knight almost all day, and while he'd certainly been…_preoccupied_ with men before, it hadn't ever been like this. Usually, it was just brief, lustful infatuation – thoughts just meant to blur behind his eyelids late at night when he was naked and coated in a light sheen of sweat.

As he tripped through mud and rocks and the homes of various irate creatures, he blinded and saw Blaine's bright, hazel eyes. He would stumble and brace his hands on his knees, breathing hard and imagining the way Blaine had looked in the light of Kurt's room. And now, curled up in a place so vastly different than his own plush bed, he couldn't help but recall the warmth of Blaine's hand against his own; he wished, eyes drifting shut just a touch, for that same warmth to be surrounding him in the cold forest.

Kurt rolled onto his back, watching the faint glow of faeries as they moved through the trees. He listened to the rustle of the world around him. He breathed in the crisp night air.

He thought about Blaine.

It had occurred to him, whilst navigating his way around the river, that Blaine had told him two totally different stories about his encounter with the dragon. The realization had made him frown; he didn't particularly like that Blaine had lied to him. Why would he have told Kurt that the dragon was attacking his Kingdom and threatening the Princess, only to contradict himself later? Kurt burrowed his nose into a fold of his cloak, inhaling the fading scent of home.

It hadn't taken him long to realize, upon reflecting on their encounter the previous day, that Blaine had told him that story (because it was a story, not a lie) because it was what he'd thought Kurt wanted to hear. He'd believed that he'd needed to tell a vague but heroic tale, giving a valiant reason to go after the dragon. Based on Blaine's feelings towards his own knighthood, Kurt understood that Blaine felt the need to appeal to the masses, to put on a brave façade because it was what was expected. He must not have been in Kurt's kingdom for long, if he'd truly believed he'd needed to fabricate circumstances to impress the Prince and King.

That wasn't how things were in every Kingdom, however, and Kurt knew that for Blaine, saying he had blinded a dragon in defense of a Princess made for a far better Knight's tale than stumbling across its cave on a walk and regretting the wound dealt to it.

Sir Blaine Anderson, with his apparent inability to keep his emotions from shining through his eyes, remained an utter mystery to Kurt.

He drifted off into sleep, mind whirring gently with thoughts of his strange knight.

OOOOO

Kurt's breath was rattling around in his chest the next morning when he awoke. His fire had long since died out, and as heavy and warm as his cloak was, he'd no doubt be feeling the effects of a frigid night outdoors.

It took him a few good hours to climb the rest of the way up the mountain, if the position of the sun was any indication. His brow was damp with sweat, his shoulders ached and chafed from the weight of his pack, his breath was clogged and ragged, and yet he soldiered on. He was determined to see this journey through, to have courage.

Kurt bolstered himself up with that thought, puffing his chest out with bravado. He quickly deflated, however, when he found himself at the mouth of the dragon's den. He dropped his satchel to the ground, as quietly as possible, and collected his breath. He could hear the low rush and hum of the dragon's breathing, and his own pull on oxygen stuttered.

_'What was I thinking?'_ he panicked, and took one stumbling step backwards. A knight, a soldier trained for this exact situation, admitted to him (a Prince whose only true skill lay in charcoal smudges) that he'd been injured by this same beast, and Kurt's idea had been to confront it himself?

He was an idiot.

An idiot who'd come too far to turn back now.

He gripped his sword in trembling hands and stepped towards the cave. "Dragon!" he called out, ignoring the quiver and crack in his voice. "Dragon, I want to talk to you!"

A rumbling growl echoed around the walls of the cave, spilling from the entrance in a cacophony of sound. "Enter."

Kurt stepped only about ten feet into the cave, and a bright flame blinded him as the dragon lit torches that lined the walls. Kurt knew that, centuries ago, this cave had been a safe-hold for members of the royal family, but now it was just one more space that the dragon had invaded.

Its scales looked slick and shiny in the dim light, and its one good eye was a frankly alarmingly bright red. The pupil twitched as the dragon surveyed him.

"Ah, the Princess!" Its voice was lazy, indulgent, and infuriating. "I should have known. Your voice is so…unique."

Anger flared through Kurt's veins and he took a step forward. His fingers loosened their grip, and he allowed the heavy, metal blade to clatter to the ground. He stepped forward a few more paces and noted with interest how the dragon tensed and even seemed to shrink backwards. Its tail, the closest thing to Kurt, gave small and warning 'thump.'

Kurt's throat tightened and he held up his hands defensively. "I don't want to hurt you. I didn't come here to hurt you."

The rumbling growls it was making didn't stop even as the dragon snarled out its response. "You come any closer and I _will_ hurt you, Princess."

"The name is Prince Kurt, actually," Kurt snapped, and took three steps nearer to the beast, ignoring the ball of dread that had begun to gather in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm warning you," the dragon said, the threat the same but the underlying current of fear totally new. The tail, now less than a foot away from Kurt, twitched again. His anger left him almost as quickly as it had come, and Kurt reached out a hand. He was intent on feeling those scales under his fingers, stroking them in an attempt to offer comfort.

The dragon's entire body stiffened at the movement of Kurt's hand. "Do not touch me-"

Kurt's fingers brushed against reptilian armor, cold beneath his skin.

"I said, _**DO NOT TOUCH ME!**_" the dragon roared, and his tail lifted and swung into Kurt.

The air was knocked out of his lungs as he slammed into the wall of the cave. Kurt slumped to the ground, gasping for oxygen and doing his damnedest not to cry at the pain in his ribcage. The agony seared through his torso, and he struggled to his feet. The world swam around him and he tilted dangerously, staggering forward. He raised his hands up in front of him, trying to find purchase. Unfortunately, the dragon was nearest to him, and the heavy tail swung into him, hard, for a second time.

Kurt's head bounced off of the ground, making his vision spotty and gray. Tears spilled out of the corners of his eyes and he whimpered. His head lolled to the side and through blurred vision, he watched the dragon's massive figure shuffle down into the depths of the cave. One red eye flickered in the distance, and a soft whisper drifted back into Kurt's ear, almost apologetic.

"I warned you."

Then, darkness.

At first, Kurt thought he had lost consciousness, but his eyes soon adjusted and he realized that the torches along the wall had been extinguished. He took a large gulp of air, desperately trying to ignore the way his ribs screamed in protest. Slowly, he rolled onto his side and braced his hands against the earth. He brought himself to his knees and stayed there on all fours, head hung low and a trickle of blood running down his neck and the side of his face.

After what seemed like hours, days, years, Kurt pushed himself to his feet, helpless to do anything but stumble into too-bright sunshine.

He gathered up his sword and pack, fumbling around for a jar of Healing Salve. He scooped a generous dollop into the palm of his hand and rubbed it along the jagged wound in the back of his head, hoping that it would stall the bleeding long enough to get him home.

His feet dragged through grass and dirt. He didn't stop walking until he reached the castle.


	6. Chapter Five

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

* * *

><p>The royal household had turned over on itself when it became apparent that Kurt was missing. The King, pale and frightened, had ordered every room in the castle to be thoroughly examined, and the grounds scoured. The chambermaid who had discovered the ladder hanging from Kurt's window was interrogated thoroughly, badgered by the King himself until she had been reduced to tears. Feeling guilty, he'd released her for the rest of the day and promised her double payment for her efforts.<p>

Finn, stone-faced and tense, led a search party into the village immediately outside the castle's walls. Kurt had been known to go into town without telling many of his whereabouts, but it was unlike him to tell absolutely no one where he was going. Lady Sylvester organized her best knights together to ransack the Enchanted Forest behind the castle, muddling their way through the magic until a group of centaurs chased them back out every day.

Perhaps the most surprising reaction was that of one Sir Anderson. The knight, upon being informed that the Prince had disappeared, had gone pale and stiff with anger and fear. Shoulders thrown back and fists clenched tightly by his sides, he had strode to the weapons stores and threw open the chest of swords reserved for the royal family. His face had turned white, and then an ugly shade of red at the absence of Kurt's sword. He had sworn under his breath, grabbed his own weapon from the wall, and marched into the forest.

His terse countenance soon joined Lady Sylvester's party and he often charged ahead of the others with a shout of Kurt's name.

When it became too dark to continue, and the centaurs' threats had become increasingly more violent, the weary groups had trudged back to the castle to deliver their reports to the King and Queen.

The King, eyes bloodshot with fatigue and hands trembling with fear, had kept vigil at his bedroom window, his eyes scanning the earth for any sign of his son. Finally, Queen Carole laid a hand on his arm and gently led him to their bed.

"I cannot lose him," he confessed to her, brokenly, his large frame wracked with sobs.

She stroked a hand across his brow. "You won't lose him, Burt. He's a smart young man – he takes after his father."

Burt said nothing, already immersed in fitful sleep.

He awoke on the third day when a commotion in the yard startled him awake. Dawn had barely begun to peek across the mountain range, providing barely enough light to see into their courtyard. Joined at the hand, he and Carole made their way to the window. Their eyes drifted across tree and rock and grass until they landed on a lone, stumbling figure; a figure dragging a sword in the earth behind him and who had a dirty pack slung across his shoulders.

"Kurt," Burt whispered, pressing a hand against the glass of his window just as his son pitched forward and collapsed halfway into grass and halfway into Sir Anderson's arms.

Together, they raced down the stairs.

OOOOO

Blaine hooked his hands underneath of Kurt's arms, gritting his teeth together as he hit his knees and hauled Kurt into his arms. His hands were already sticky with the Prince's blood, coated in a brick colored mess that smudged every time he moved. "Your highness," he barked, settling the younger man's head into his lap. "Your highness, can you hear me?"

Kurt's eyes, unfocused, drifted towards Blaine. Sweat covered almost every inch of his face, making lines in the dirt and blood smeared across his cheekbones. "Wh…oh. S'Annerson. Hullo." His normally clear voice, higher pitched than most, was deep and thick with pain and exhaustion. Something clenched unpleasantly in Blaine's gut.

"Your highness, I need you to tell me where you're injured. It's very important," he said, moving his hands to the back of Kurt's head. His fingers sunk into the wet mass of hair there, coming back coated in a mix of Salve and blood. The smell of it drifted into his nose, making him feel ill. He pushed his hand back into Kurt's hair, feeling around for the injury until his fingers pressed against a sizeable gash and Kurt cried out in pain and his body went rigid.

How serious must the wound have been that even Healing potions (albeit poorly applied potions) couldn't close it completely?

Kurt shoved weakly at his chest, giving himself enough momentum to roll sideways off of Blaine's lap and plant his face firmly in the dirt. He moaned through the grass in his mouth, arms winding tight around his own body in a protective effort.

"Your _highness_," Blaine said sharply, and turned Kurt over onto his back once more. He pulled out a small dagger he kept hidden in his boot and, fisting the fabric of Kurt's bloodied and disgusting shirt in one hand, dragged the blade up and through the cloth. It separated with a quiet rip, and inch by inch bruised-black skin revealed itself to Blaine's eyes.

"Oh, Kurt," he muttered, and ran his fingers over each injury, gently. "What have you done?" He looked up at the group of knights surrounding them, and made eye contact with Lady Sylvester when she knelt by their side. "We need to get him to the healer's quarters, immediately. He has a bad head wound and probably several cracked, if not broken, ribs. God knows how long he's been walking around this way." His hand moved, pushing Kurt's sweaty hair out of his face. Bright sea-green eyes tracked his every movement, and he realized that Kurt's lips kept moving silently, as if he were trying to say something but couldn't muster up the effort to actually speak.

Lady Sylvester followed his line of focus. She pressed her palms against the ground on either side of Kurt's head and leaned forward, locking their gazes with purpose. Kurt gaped up at her, then pulled his lips together in a horrible imitation of a smile. "Porcelain," she said, firmly. "You need to tell us where you've been. The whole Kingdom was worried about you."

His lips continued to form silent words. Lady Sylvester tilted her head until her ear hovered just above Kurt's lips, waiting for him to try again. Finally, his pale-pink mouth moved, speaking quietly into her ear.

Blaine watched, a sinking feeling in his gut, as Lady Sylvester's face paled dramatically. She pushed herself up and away from her charge, breathing heavy, and slammed one fist against the ground. It hit the dirt with an unsatisfyingly muted 'thump.'

"Have I taught you _nothing?_" she hissed at Kurt, and it was almost astonishing to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Or did Figgins warp your mind so badly whilst I was away?" She staggered to her feet and began shouting orders at her knights, pointing madly every which way.

A hand slid over Blaine's, too warm and shaking to be anyone's but Kurt's. Blaine glanced down at him, briefly, and then back at Lady Sylvester. "What did he say?" he demanded. In the distance, he heard the sound of the King and Queen's cries as they rushed towards their son. "Lady Sylvester, _what did he say!"_

She whirled on him, gaze equal parts furious and heartbroken. "You were right. We need to get him to the Healer's quarters as soon as possible. The little fool went after the dragon."

Cold seeped into Blaine's every limb, and he slowly tilted his head down to meet Kurt's eyes. He had feared that, certainly, when he had heard the Prince was missing, but he had desperately hoped he'd merely gotten lost while sketching in the forest. An improbably wish, but he'd made it nonetheless. Kurt smiled up at him, sleepily. His bruised chest and ribs were hitching painfully with every breath, his head leaked blood into the earth, Blaine whispered, "You _idiot_," just as Kurt's eyes rolled back into his head.

He remained unconscious even as the Queen and King fell to their knees beside him, both crying in relief. He remained unconscious even as Lady Sylvester took him in her arms and walked swiftly through the castle towards the Healer's quarters. He remained unconscious even as Rachel suppressed her sobs while she looked him over, her gently glowing hands pushing against each injury until she healed them as best she could. He remained unconscious as, after his skull had been mended and there was no longer a sickening dent in bone, they drew a bath for him and submerged him in the water, keeping his trousers on as Finn climbed in behind him. He remained unconscious even as his brother held him in the large basin, crying into Kurt's hair while their father himself sloshed water over Kurt's head in order to remove the blood dried there.

He stayed unconscious the entire day, sleeping through the tears and the relief and the questions as to _"Why?"_

When he awoke, much later and after everyone else had retired for the evening, the only thing he could see was the flicker of the candle by his bedside. Kurt inhaled deeply through his nose and stretched his overly sore limbs, wincing at the discomfort in his ribs. He lifted his right hand to push through his hair, fingers carefully probing at the spot where he'd hit his head against the wall. It felt bruised and sore, but the salve must have done its duty.

He was still rubbing gently at his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding him, and he soon became aware that he was resting in the room attached to Rachel's quarters. Ah. So that explained how he'd healed so well – because Rachel had, literally, worked magic on him. His fingers moved down his side and prodded gently at his sore torso, and he winced.

"Are you feeling better?"

He let out an undignified squeak, coming close to hitting his head on the wall. Kurt swung his gaze around the room until his eyes landed on a tense figure standing in the window, silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. "B-Blaine?"

The knight's face tilted towards him in response, and more of Blaine's profile came into view. "Are you feeling better?" he repeated. "Are you coherent?"

Kurt swallowed. "I…I think so."

"Good." And then, Blaine was stalking towards him, coming into the radius of the candle light and letting Kurt see the fury in his eyes. "What the _hell_ were you thinking? Going off on your own, fighting a dragon, almost _killing yourself_, for what? To prove a point? To be brave?"

"You told me to have courage!" Kurt cried out, fists clenching in the bed clothes.

"Yes, I did, but I didn't tell you to _chase after a damned dragon!_" Blaine hissed, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over Kurt. "Three cracked ribs, two broken, and a head wound that could have killed you. You went off on your own to fight something that I warned you would be dangerous. That's not courage, that's stupidity."

Kurt felt anger heat the skin of his neck and cheeks and he shoved his palms against the bed, hard, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Blaine reared back in response. "I'm fine, aren't I? Maybe a little worse for wear, but I'm alive. I knew Rachel would-"

"No, no, you didn't," Blaine cut him off, and cornered Kurt. He uncrossed his arms and braced his hands against the wall on either side of Kurt's head. "You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. You had an idealistic vision of what _could _happen. You didn't once think about what it would do to your father, to your brother, to your mother, to the Kingdom that _loves _you and accepts you for who you are…you didn't think for one damned minute what would happen to them if you didn't come back at all." He leaned in close, his breathing heavy and angry against Kurt's face. "You are a selfish boy."

Kurt shoved at his chest, launching Blaine away from him. His ribs screamed in protest at the movement and sent a sharp pain searing down his side, and he gasped. Any fight went out of him as he slumped to the side; obviously, he was not as well healed as he'd thought. He felt himself begin to fall of the bed and braced himself for impacting the cold, hard ground when suddenly, familiar arms encircled him and pushed him upright.

He was still gasping for air as Blaine gently laid him down against the mattress. Warm, calloused hands pushed through his hair gently, and he blinked up at the knight leaning over him. Blaine's expression had gone from infuriated to heartbreaking, and Kurt raised a shaking hand of his own to tuck an errant curl behind Blaine's ear.

"Who are you?" Blaine whispered, scanning hazel eyes across Kurt's face, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes again. "You aren't like anyone I've ever met before, and I…I…"

Kurt licked his lips. Blaine's eyes became hooded. "I'm Prince Kurt Hummel," he said softly, his hand sliding down Blaine's cheek and down his neck. His fingers tangled in the hair at Blaine's nape. "I'm a terrible swordsman, a skilled artist, prone to arrogance, and the only true heir to the throne who'll never be able to continue the family line because I prefer men to women. I-"

Whatever he'd been about to say was lost forever, never to know existence outside the brief flutter of Kurt's mind, because in that instant, Blaine's lips were on his, pushing and pressing and warm. Kurt's fingers slid into Blaine's hair as his eyes drifted shut, and he arched his neck into the kiss. Their mouths opened to each other and Kurt felt a shiver trickle pleasantly down his spine. Blaine was holding onto his face almost desperately, thumbs soothing over Kurt's cheekbones as they kissed. Their tongues slicked against one another and Blaine exhaled shakily through his nose and turned his head a bit to deepen the kiss. Kurt's other hand fisted the fabric of the knight's shirt and pulled, trying to get Blaine closer.

Blaine pulled away, breathing heavily, and pressed his forehead against Kurt's. His eyes were shut tight whereas Kurt's were wide and awestruck, his mouth open as he panted for breath. "I fell in love with a noble's son," Blaine said softly, hands still cupping Kurt's face. "A lady-in-waiting walked in on him kissing me when I was in my bedroom, healing. I was exiled from the Kingdom. Those…those feelings aren't acceptable between two men. I drifted from village to village, kingdom to kingdom, until…" He opened his eyes, his eyelashes brushing against Kurt's skin. "Until I found you."

Kurt pulled him down and kissed him again, fiercely. Blaine tore his mouth away after a few seconds, and he slid one of his hands underneath of Kurt to press between the Prince's shoulder blades. "You must promise not to go after the dragon again," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead, and then against one of his eyelids. "Not alone."

"Blaine-"

"Promise me," he whispered again, dropping a kiss onto Kurt's cheek. "I can't lose you, Kurt. Not when I've just found you."

Kurt sighed heavily and wound his arms around Blaine's shoulders, pulling the knight down into a loose embrace. Blaine, tired and relieved, brought his knees up and climbed onto the bed, gently shoving Kurt to the side so that they could lie down next to one another. He pushed his lips against the smooth skin behind Kurt's ear and muttered, "Promise."

Kurt's face turned towards his. "I promise."

Blaine locked their fingers together firmly, and kissed him. Their mouths pressed against one another, full of promises, until the sun came up.


	7. Chapter Six

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

**Author's Note:** Oh, God. I really, really hate to do this to all of the lovely people out there who have read this story and reviewed it. This is the second-to-last chapter of this fanfiction, meaning that one more will follow (and maybe a brief epilogue) and I truly love every single one of you that has given me feedback or even just read it, but I need to warn you that this is the last update you'll be getting from me for a while. I leave tomorrow for the entirety of the summer. I was determined to finish this story before I left, but real life intervened. I would stay up and finish the thing and post it as one long chapter, but it's nearing two am and I need to be awake at eight tomorrow.

I'm sorry, my dears, but I do love all of you!

* * *

><p>By mid-afternoon the next day, Kurt's body had healed completely. There was a bit of superficial stiffness in his ribs and neck, but Rachel had assured him (as she was pressing her golden-glowing hands against his skin) that all of the pain would be gone soon enough, because she was just that talented as a Healer. Kurt usually rolled his eyes at her confident and overbearing personality, but after personally experiencing her work for the second time, he had to admit that she had reason to be that way. When he was thirteen, he'd fallen off of his horse when a pixie bit its hind leg and sent it rearing backwards, and had broken his wrist and his collarbone. The healer at that time, a terrifying hag (who Kurt had later learned was Lady Sylvester's mother) either hadn't been very good at her position or hadn't cared about Kurt's injuries enough to heal them properly. The bones had hurt him almost constantly until Rachel, just an apprentice at the time, had come and fixed him.<p>

Kurt rolled his head across his shoulders in an attempt to stretch the abused muscles. He was a bit more tense than he had been upon leaving the Healer's quarters, but that was due to the fact that his father had summoned him to the throne room almost immediately. After a tight hug that threatened to break his ribs all over again, Kurt had had to sit through the most painful and embarrassing tongue-lashing he'd ever experienced.

Needless to say, he had no plans to wander off into the wilderness on his own. Ever again.

He pushed his chin into his hand, gazing out over the forest towards the mountain. He could see the tendrils of smoke wafting into the sky and tracked the movement with his eyes. He heaved a sigh, stretching his sore ribs a bit, and then dropped his head into his hand, pushing his fingers through the thick hair he could reach underneath his crown. He massaged along his own scalp, scraping lightly with his nails in an attempt to calm himself down.

A hand that wasn't his own slid into the hair at the nape of his neck and started rubbing at the tension there. Kurt relaxed almost immediately as Blaine came to stand next to him, the knight's chest pressing against Kurt's bicep. "Hello," he breathed, looking at Blaine out of his peripheral vision.

The corner of Blaine's lips quirked up into a little smile. "Hello," he returned, nodding once. His hand never ceased its movement across Kurt's scalp, and even drifted higher until his fingers bumped against Kurt's crown. He directed his eyes towards the mountain and his fingers stopped briefly. "Don't."

Kurt tilted his head and gave a petulant scowl. "Obviously I wasn't thinking about going back there," he snapped, straightening his spine and trying to force Blaine's fingers out of his hair. "I don't have a death wish, thank you."

Blaine tightened his grip on the silky strands, not letting Kurt get away easily. "You could have fooled me," he said calmly. "Considering you went off to a dragon's den on your own."

"Oh, not this again."

"Yes, this again," Blaine said firmly. "It was only yesterday you fell into my arms and bled all over me, Kurt. I'm not going to forget it easily. I think we can both agree that what you did, while noble and brave and all that, was incredibly stupid."

Kurt's whole body tensed as if he were readying himself for an argument, but suddenly his shoulders slumped and a sheepish look sank into his features. "You're right," he admitted, looking back down at his hands. "I just…"

"I know," Blaine said, and pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's temple. It was a fleeting brush of lips against skin, since Blaine was still barely used to the idea of being allowed to show any male physical affection, but it still sent shockwaves across Kurt's nerves. He shivered and leaned his shoulder a bit harder into Blaine. The knight's fingers ran down the back of Kurt's neck and drifted down his spine, the palm pressing into the small of Kurt's back.

"Are you ready for your lesson with Lady Sylvester?"

Kurt groaned and turned himself towards Blaine fully, and pushed his face into the other man's neck. Blaine stumbled back a few steps and cast his gaze around, wary of any passers-by. Eventually, his hands drifted up to cup Kurt's shoulder blades, and he patted the Prince's back awkwardly. "Do I _have_ to?" Kurt mumbled, pressing kisses into Blaine's skin.

Blaine shivered against him. "Yes," he whispered. "You need to. Something tells me Lady Sylvester is more frightening than a dragon when she's crossed."

Kurt sighed, his warm breath huffing against Blaine. "Fine," he groused, and stood up straight. He adjusted his crown, head held high, and turned and walked away. He only made it a few steps before he turned around, eyebrow cocked. "Well? Are you coming?" He held out his hand.

Blaine suppressed a small laugh and slid his calloused fingers into Kurt's soft grip, and allowed himself to be pulled along.

OOOOO

Kurt collapsed onto his knees in the grass, panting heavily. This was his ninth day of training, and he was sweaty, he was tired, he was sore, and he was fairly certain he _smelled_. All of which were completely unacceptable. He lowered himself to the ground, pressing his palms and then his cheek into the cool earth and feeling the low lying breeze sweep over him. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

He heard the sound of grass under feet, and cracked his eyes open enough to see the tips of Blaine's shoes come into his line of vision. Blaine crouched down next to him and pushed sweat soaked hair off of Kurt's forehead. "Kill me," Kurt mumbled. "It's preferable to being sweaty. This is doing horrors to my skin, I just know it."

"Killing you would rather defeat the purpose of training you to fight against a dragon," Blaine pointed out. His thumb caught an errant bead of sweat and smoothed it away. Kurt closed his eyes at the contact.

"I feel _disgusting_," he moaned. Blaine just smiled in response. "I'm lying in _dirt_, Blaine. Dirt. Me. This is filthy."

"So have the chambermaids draw you a bath."

"I can't move," he said, as if it were the most obvious statement to make. "I'm doomed to fester away in this very spot until the Light Realm comes for me."

"Kurt, you're hardly dying. You've come much closer to dying than this. Now, you're just…" Blaine scrunched his nose a bit and leaned back until his butt collided with the ground. He stretched his legs out in front of him. "Smelly."

Kurt pressed his face back into the grass and moaned, then rolled over until he was on his back and his shoulder was pressed against Blaine's thigh. The faint blue glow that accompanied the setting sun cast shadows over the two of them, cradling them in its light until Kurt's breathing had slowed completely. By then, they were the only two in the courtyard. Blaine had long since settled himself into the dirt with his arms folded behind his head, alternating his gaze between the faeries in the forest and Kurt's upturned face.

Eventually, Kurt broke the silence. "Where do you think it came from?" he asked softly, not bothering to tilt his head towards Blaine. The knight rolled onto his side and propped his head up in one hand, looking down at Kurt.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "There was a legend in my village, though. I don't think it was anything more than a bedtime story, but it was the only explanation for why the dragon hovered on the outskirts of the Kingdom for so long."

Kurt mimicked Blaine's position, cupping his chin in one hand. "Tell it to me?"

"It's a silly story, Kurt."

"So? I want to hear it."

Blaine smiled at him, affection creasing the corners of his eyes and pulling at the edges of his mouth. "Alright. Bossy."

"I _am _a Prince, remember?"

Blaine reached out one hand and laid it gently on Kurt's shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the dirty fabric of his shirt. "How could I forget?" he asked, softly.

"Okay, well, as your Prince-"

"Technically, you aren't."

Kurt leveled him with an impressive glare. "I am a Prince. I am yours. I am. Your. Prince. And I demand you tell me a bedtime story."

Blaine laughed outright and shoved lightly at Kurt's shoulder. "Alright, calm down."

Kurt shifted closer to Blaine, eyes wide and intent.

"In the part of the Kingdom where I grew up," Blaine began softly, eyes focused. "There was a story. A legend, I guess you could call it, about a witch. She was beautiful; dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin…beautiful, but unkind to strangers. She was also powerful, _very_ powerful, probably the most powerful witch within the realm. And, she had a lover. A young healer who, if the story is correct, specialized in the healing of magical creatures. She was said to be loving and caring and found beauty in everything, but wasn't the sharpest sword in the weapons chest, if you know what I mean. They lived in a small home on the outside of the village, close enough for supplies should they need them, but far enough away so that they could escape the scorn of the peasants.

"But the problem with people, at least not the people in your Kingdom, is that they don't seem to accept what's different very easily, do they? At first, the villagers paid them no mind because they believed them just to be friends, studying magic alongside each other. When it was revealed that it was more, confusion and anger and fear set them into motion." Blaine rubbed his hand over Kurt's bicep and down the length of his arm. "They grabbed the usual mob-ware. Pitchforks, daggers, clubs, torches, all brought out because two people fell in love."

"That's just…absurd!" Kurt cried out, impassioned. "How could-"

"I know," Blaine said, voice soothing. "I know, Kurt. Now, let me finish the story."

Kurt's lips pursed together, but he said nothing further.

"Where was I?"

"Angry mob."

"Oh, yes, thank you. Well, the men of the village gathered their forces together and marched down to the witches' home and tried to burn it down. The dark haired witch apparently defended them admirably, calling on her magic to keep them both safe. But there was one villager who caught her lover and threatened her. He claimed he would trade the healer in exchange for the two of them taking themselves far, far away from the Kingdom. The witch was so enraged by the threat to her lover's life that she threw a hex at the man. Unfortunately, the healer had started to struggle, and by the time the magic was cast, the healer and the villager were hit by the spell. The villager turned into the dragon you and I have had the distinct pleasure of meeting. If legend is anything to go off of, the healer was transformed into a dragon – smaller and apparently a shade of light pink – and spends her days in a cave near her former home."

"And the witch?" Kurt breathed, fascinated.

"She froze herself in time. She's waiting for the day her lover comes back to her. At least, that's what all the stories say. The hex has to be broken, though. It's the only way they'll ever be together again."

"What was the curse?" Kurt asked, scooting his body closer towards Blaine's. The knight slowly lowered his upper body until his shoulder blades connected with the earth, and he looped an arm around Kurt's shoulders and neck. He tugged, gently, until Kurt's ear was pressed firmly against the steady thrum of Blaine's heart in his chest.

"The villager is doomed to stay in the form of a dragon, a beast that all fear and loathe, until someone can forgive him for all the pain he's caused. And, because they were linked together when the spell was cast, the witch's lover's state of being relies entirely on whether or not the villager can find such a person." Blaine brushed a kiss to the top of Kurt's head. "I suppose we can't all be as lucky as I am, to have found you and your amazing Kingdom."

Kurt hummed happily, pressing his nose into Blaine's collarbone. He laid there, feeling quite content to breathe in _Blaine_ for the rest of his life, when his eyes flickered open and then flew wide. He raised himself off of the ground with a loud gasp, and pivoted on his knees to look at the mountains behind him. "Oh!"

Blaine sat up, startled and alert. "What? Kurt, what?"

Kurt turned to face him, some of his hair swinging with the movement. _"Oh! _Blaine, you are a _genius!_" He planted his hands on either side of Blaine's face and gave him a single hard kiss before he was stumbling to his feet. He lifted two fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. He seemed to watch the sky in whatever little light remained, absentmindedly helping Blaine to his feet in the meanwhile.

A large, dark figure appeared in the sky and circled overhead. It was a gryphon, Blaine realized as it settled into the grass in front of them. It eyed Blaine with sharp golden eyes and its lion tail flicked against the blades of grass.

"Pav," Kurt said, happily. He rushed forward and slid his fingers gently along the eagle's head, careful not to ruffle the feathers too much. The creature clicked its beak at him, happy, and shook its head and wings out at the same time. "Pav, I want you to meet someone. Pav, this is Blaine. Blaine…this is Pavarotti. My pet."

Blaine stared at him, incredulous. "You…have a _pet gryphon_? Who _are_ you?"

His question went largely ignored. Kurt was pressing his forehead against the feathers directly above one of the gryphon's eyes, and was murmuring gently to the glorious beast. Whatever he was saying, Blaine had no idea, but the gryphon gave a low whirring noise of agreement and batted affectionately at Kurt with its tail. The Prince grinned and stepped away, watching with delight as Pavarotti lifted himself into the air and took off with a screeching cry.

"What was that about?" Blaine asked, coming closer.

"I sent him to the dragon," Kurt breathed, eyes still fixated on Pav's diminishing form. "I told Pav to bring the dragon to us."

Rage and panic flared up abruptly within Blaine's chest. He gripped Kurt by the shoulders, hard, and spun him around. "You did _what_," he hissed, getting closer. "Did the fact that you nearly died last week teach you _nothing?"_

"Blaine."

"Of all the stupid, reckless-"

"Blaine!"

"-idiotic, masochistic things I've ever-"

"Sir Anderson." Kurt's tone was cold and powerful, and the sound of it stopped Blaine short. This, he realized, was how Kurt sounded when he embraced his role as a Prince. This was how Kurt would sound someday when he was King. This was how Kurt would grab attention, command respect, and earn the trust of his people.

Blaine wanted to _kiss_ him.

"If you're quite done insulting me, I think you'll find I've actually done us a favor."

"How?" Blaine asked, closing his eyes and pinching at the bridge of his nose.

"You said it yourself," Kurt said, his tone back to its usual melodic chords. "He needs to be forgiven. What better place than in my Kingdom?"

"Kurt…that's just a story!"

Kurt squeezed his hand and drew him in to a firm embrace. "It's worth a shot, Blaine," he breathed into the knight's ear. "If I can give him his life back, if I can give the witch her lover…even if it's all a story, even if it's all make-believe…I'll have tried."

Blaine sighed heavily and allowed himself to lean into Kurt just a little bit more. "I hope you know what you're doing," he mumbled.

"Not at all," Kurt admitted. "Do you trust me?"

Blaine's grip on Kurt tightened almost possessively. He looked at Kurt with hazel eyes that were deadly serious. "With my life."

Kurt kissed him then, a brief but passionate tangle of lips and tongue and hands in hair. Blaine reciprocated in full, more comfortable now that darkness had fallen around them and their affections were no longer laid bare for the world. They separated, breathing heavily, and leaned their foreheads against each other.

"What now?" Blaine asked softly.

"Now? We wait."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Title:** Once Upon A Time  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Kurt, Blaine, or the other characters on Glee.  
><strong>Note:<strong> For Plumey, who (over on Tumblr) asked for a bedtime story, and set my brain on fire.

**Author's Note:** OH MY GOODNESS. I have absolutely no excuse for being so horrifically slow on updating this story. Well, I suppose I do, since for the entire summer I was working in a place that wasn't exactly conducive to writing fanfiction...it's only been recently that I've had enough time to dedicate to finishing this baby. This is the final chapter of Once Upon A Time, and I want to thank absolutely EVERYONE who has read and reviewed this story. It means so, so much to me!

* * *

><p>Blaine smiled as a heavy cloak was set around his shoulders, the luscious fur tickling at the back of his neck. He didn't take his gaze away from the sky, watching the stars flicker and burn in the distance. Kurt sat down beside him and Blaine reached out, wrapping an arm around his Prince's waist and pulled Kurt tightly to his side. The fabric around Blaine's shoulders shifted as Kurt pulled it around the both of them and leaned his forehead against Blaine's temple.<p>

"Anything?" he asked, voice quiet and breath warm against Blaine's neck.

"Not yet," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's waist. "Just the stars and you, so I can't complain. The lack of fire breathing dragon is an advantage to the night, I must say."

Kurt hummed against Blaine's cheek, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. "Pav's one of the best hunters I have ever seen," he murmured. "I find it doubtful that he won't return to us without the dragon, as soon as he possibly is able."

Blaine sighed and felt his shoulders slump in resignation. "Spectacular," he muttered. Kurt just smiled.

Suddenly, a piercing cry split the quiet air and Pavarotti burst back into their view, swooping over the treetops at a high speed. The gryphon circled overhead, calling out to the men below before descending. The creature landed heavily in the grass beside them, feathers on his great head puffed menacingly and the arch of its spine indicating his eagerness to defend his master at any moment.

Blaine and Kurt scrambled to their feet, both of their gazes firmly affixed to the night sky. A rushing noise, faint at first but steadily growing louder, reached their ears and Blaine's hand flew to his sword. Kurt laid his palm against Pav's feathers, stroking the gryphon's neck in an attempt at relaxing the tense animal. Pav clicked his beak at Kurt, body still tensed for a fight.

"Kurt," Blaine said, voice tight. "I think this is our moment of truth."

An obscenely loud roar slammed into their eardrums as the dragon swooped suddenly over the treetops, its massive body blocking out the light of the moon. Four massive, clawed feet slammed into the ground with a force that threatened to knock Kurt and Blaine down into the grass, and the dragon flicked his tongue out at the two of them.

"What is the meaning of this?" it hissed, its one good eye glancing between the two of them. "You dare call me out of my slumber for some chat by firelight? Was I not _clear_ last time, little Prince?" The dragon stepped forward, coming closer to Kurt. Blaine withdrew his sword from its scabbard and Pav snapped at the behemoth, hackles raised dangerously.

Kurt stepped forward and held out his hands, staving off both of his protectors. "I want to talk to you," he called out, swallowing the nerves that threatened to choke him. "I…I _needed_ to talk to you."

The dragon's lips curled back, exposing long and deadly teeth. Its shoulders rolled smoothly underneath large, onyx scales as it crept slowly closer. "Fool," it whispered, putrid breath wafting into their noses. "What does it take for you to learn that I am _dangerous?_ That I will kill you and all you love, because it is in my nature."

Kurt extended an arm out towards the dragon, fingers twitching. Fear suddenly spiked into the blood red eye leveled in his direction. Kurt's breath caught in his throat and he had to repress the memories of the last time he and this dragon had been this close.

Had to forget that he had nearly died.

Blaine's presence behind him was reassuring and unwavering, so he soldiered on. "I need to talk to you," he repeated, not once moving his eyes away from the dragon's blood red iris, still glowing brightly in the darkness. "I…I want to help you."

The dragon snorted, smoke billowing through its nostrils and the smell of sulfur permeated the air. "Lies! All lies, my little Prince, I have seen your kind before!"

Kurt couldn't help the dry laugh that escaped his lips. "Somehow, I very much doubt that." He cast his gaze backwards towards Blaine. "I have it on good authority that I am one of a kind."

Blaine's mouth twitched upwards at the corners, but his steely gaze never left the dragon's looming figure.

"How _sweet_," the dragon purred, large nose wrinkling into a sneer, "that two such…_unique_ individuals should find each other." Its eye roved up and down Blaine's form and the rage that followed the flash of recognition was violent in its onslaught. "You!" the dragon bellowed, shaking the ground beneath their feet with its roar. "_You_, you insolent, pathetic human! You _dare_ to face me after all you've done? After you destroyed my eye and I _left you for dead?_ You have the gall!"

When Blaine spoke, his voice was strong and determined, fearless in a way that Kurt had never heard before. "I am here to fight for Kurt," he said, gripping his sword and setting his feet firmly into the dirt. "And I will defend him with every bone left in my body, especially from the likes of-"

"Blaine," Kurt interrupted, voice sharp and regal – a Prince commanding his knight. "I need you to stand down."

Blaine's eyebrows drew together. "Kurt-"

"I said, stand down," Kurt said again, and took another step towards the angry beast in front of him. He turned his palm upwards towards the sky, exposing the soft flesh of his hand as a conciliatory gesture. "I need to do this. You know that."

Blaine grit his teeth but stayed put. "Kurt," he bit out, hands twisting around his sword. "Kurt, I can't lose you. I _won't_."

"You won't," Kurt agreed, looking back over his shoulder. "Blaine. You and I will have forever, alright? But right now, I have something I need to do."

And with that, he broke into a sprint towards the dragon, running between its massive legs until he was standing underneath its belly.

The dragon let out a burst of flame in its rage, turning in circles as it tried to scare Kurt out from under it. Soon, a ring of fire blazed around them, shocking Kurt with its heat and causing sweat to break out across his forehead almost immediately. Dimly, over the crackle and roar of the fire, he could hear Blaine's desperate calls of his name. Kurt drew in hot, ragged breaths and reached upwards, slamming his palms against the smooth underbelly rocking over his head.

"Listen to me!" he yelled, pushing hard. "Listen! Dragon, this is it! I will no longer allow you to kill or maim the people of my kingdom! They are _loved_,by my father,by me, by their own families and you are _destroying_ them without a second thought!" A growl rumbled through the beast, vibrating almost painfully against Kurt's hands. "You may claim that it's in your nature, but I won't believe it! Do you hear me? I won't believe it! You are capable of controlling yourself! You don't have to push around those smaller than you, you don't have to hurt anyone, not anymore!"

"What trickery is this?" the dragon roared, twisting and turning its massive body until Kurt stumbled and his hands lost contact. He struggled to regain his footing and reestablish that vital contact, his arms waving and careening around until his hands slapped against the dragon's belly for the second time.

He took a deep breath, inhaling all the kicked up dirt and the smoke from the fire, and called out as loudly as he could, "I forgive you!"

The dragon's writhing body suddenly froze above him, going as still as a statue. Kurt splayed his fingers out, running them against the soft scales above. "I forgive you," he yelled again, voice scratching painfully in his throat. The smoke and dirt clogged his throat and burned his eyes, making breathing and sight hard to come by. "I…for everything." He paused as his body was wracked with harsh coughs, tearing his throat and sending blood sputtering between his lips. "I forgive you," he whispered before dropping his arms and falling to his knees. He crawled across the churned land towards one unmoving, giant foot. He slumped against the limb and wrapped his arms around it the best he could. "I forgive you," he murmured; blood dribbled down his chin and smeared, unseen, against black scales.

A white blue light seared his vision, even through the smoke and dirt and he shut his eyes against it. It continued, hot and bright until he could see nothing except for it behind his eyelids, and it was all too much, _too much_, and he distantly felt his arms slip from around the monster's foot before a great weight slammed into him. All of the air forced itself out of his lungs and the world went utterly blank around him as the enormous dragon overhead collapsed.

When he finally opened his eyes minutes, hours, _eternities_ later, the world was blurred around him. He rolled onto his side, coughing weakly, and squinted. The circle of fire around him had all but died, flickering strongly enough to cast light onto the trees. He could see the glint of Blaine's armor as the knight kneeled next to something.

His vision cleared a bit more, and he realized Blaine was kneeling next to some_one_. A large, burly looking silhouette sat by a tree, head in his hands.

The dragon was nowhere to be found.

"It worked," Kurt whispered, then coughed violently from the effort. Blaine's head swiveled towards him and he immediately scrambled across the dirt and braced his arms on either side of Kurt. "Kurt," he said urgently. He pressed a palm against Kurt's cheek, trying desperately to get the prince's attention. "Kurt, thank the gods you're finally awake. Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Kurt merely dazed up at him with hazy eyes, gaze utterly unfocused and blood drying around his lips. "It worked," he murmured again.

Blaine watched in horror as Kurt's eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He couldn't do anything but cry out Kurt's name desperately as the prince's body went limp in his arms.

OOOOO

Kurt awoke with a gasp that dissolved into a wrenching cough, upper body shaking violent with the force of it. His chest heaved as he regained his breath and he slowly raised himself up onto his elbows, feeling weak with exhaustion. He pushed his hair away from his face and leaned into his hand, eyes shut and breath slowly evening out.

"You're awake."

The voice, however soft, startled Kurt so badly that he almost fell off the side of his bed. Two broad, warm hands caught him gently and coaxed him back against lush pillows. A calloused thumb swept across Kurt's cheekbone, and Kurt lifted his own hand to encase Blaine's.

"Blaine," he whispered, lifting his eyes to meet his knight's. "Oh, _Blaine-_" He reached for Blaine the same moment that Blaine reached for him, and they drew together, opening their mouths to one another. They kissed for a long moment before drawing apart. Blaine's eyes were squeezed tightly shut as they leaned their foreheads together, and his grasp on Kurt bordered on desperate.

"How long was I unconscious?"

Blaine exhaled heavily through his nose, the air puffing against Kurt's lips. "Two weeks," he said, and carded a hand through Kurt's thick hair. "Rachel put you into something she called a Healing Sleep…said it would accelerate the process…but Kurt, I was _scared._ You…you were so foolish and impulsive; you literally ran to the belly of the beast. You risked your life to keep your kingdom safe. To…to give a man his life back." He kissed Kurt, hard. "And I have never loved someone the way that I love you."

Kurt's eyes opened wide before they fluttered shut once more in an attempt to stave off the tears that insisted on falling. "You…"

"Very much," Blaine said against his mouth.

"Oh." Kurt bit his bottom lip, breath hitching in his chest. "I...I love you. I _love_ you, Blaine."

They embraced each other tightly, unwilling to let go after the trauma they had endured. Kurt had his forehead pressed against Blaine's shoulder when something clicked inside his head. He drew away slowly. "Wait a minute," he said, furrowing his brows in thought. "You…you said I gave a man his life back." An image flickered in his head; a large figure, slumped by a tree and illuminated by the dim firelight, no dragon to be seen—

"It worked, Kurt," Blaine said. "Whatever you did...no matter how stupid or frightening, it worked."

"The dragon?" he questioned.

A smile tugged at the corners of Blaine's lips. "I think you'll find he prefers to be called David."

OOOOO

After an emotional reunion with his father and step-mother, followed swiftly by a stern and thorough reprimanding, Kurt found himself moving slowly towards the library, supported all the while by Blaine's strong arms.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaine asked, the worry clear in his tone. "You've not been awake for long. I don't want you to push yourself."

"I want to," Kurt grit out, pain still lancing through his upper body. "Please, Blaine. Just…get me to the library. I want to see him."

The journey was slow, due to Kurt's unsteady legs and Blaine's unwillingness to move them whilst Kurt showed any signs of pain. Eventually, though it took three times as long as usual, they found themselves standing outside the grandiose wooden doors to the library. Blaine reached out and gripped the door handles and pushed forward, opening the heavy doors slowly. Standing by the large stained glass window was a man that Kurt had never seen before.

He was a large man, both in height and girth, and he was wearing clothes that must have belonged to another knight. His shoulders were slouched, as though he were used to hunching them under the strain of a great weight, and when he turned Kurt could see an ugly, ragged scar that marred one side of his face.

"Dragon," Kurt breathed, moving forwards.

The man winced and shut the book he had been holding. He stepped towards the both of them, his gait unsteady and strange, and Kurt guessed that it was hard to get used to walking on two legs after always moving around on four. When he spoke, the voice was quiet, but ever so familiar. "It…It's an honor," he rumbled. A large hand extended outwards. "Your highness. I must thank you for…for everything."

Kurt hesitantly slipped his hand into the stranger's, feeling the rough, cracked skin and was vaguely reminded of scales.

The man swallowed heavily. "Call me David," he murmured, one good eye cast away from Kurt's face.

"Hello, David," Kurt said, and Blaine tightened the arm looped around his waist.

David's breath started to come deeper and faster, and Kurt barely had time to see a tear slip from one bright brown eye before he was being pulled into a firm embrace. The man holding him was shaking, crying, and apologizing all at once. Blaine's hand was still pressed against the small of his back, offering support, and Kurt circled his arms around David and patted a hand between his shoulder blades, trying to be as reassuring as possible without agitating his ribs. "Thank you," whispered David, brokenly. "I…I never thought it possible that someone would rescue me. I had long since given up hope that I was worthy of someone like you." He drew back and pressed his hands against Kurt's shoulders, and leveled his one eyed gaze against Kurt's startled blue eyes. "I cannot possibly put into words how very sorry I am, for all the pain I caused you…" David's eye moved until he was looking at Blaine. "And your knight."

He knelt before Kurt and bowed his head, gripping onto Kurt's hand. "I swear my loyalty to you," he intoned, voice gruff with emotion and honesty. "I swear I will never again let you come to harm. I will protect you with my very life, in exchange for the freedom you have granted me."

"Stand up," Kurt insisted quietly, urging the former dragon to his feet. "You don't need to bow to me. I told you," he gave a small, wry grin. "I forgive you."

David's smile was tremulous and watery, his eye filling with tears. Blaine pulled at Kurt's waist, gently pulling him out of the room. "David," he said, dipping his head in acknowledgement. They made their way from the library, moving slowly through the halls once more.

When Kurt looked backwards toward the library, he saw David kneeling on the floor, face tilted towards the ceiling and his body awash in colors from the stained glass. His great shoulders were shaking still, and Kurt could imagine the tears trailing down his face. The echo of David's pledge whispered through his mind, and he turned away.

Blaine pulled him close for a kiss when Kurt had finished looking towards the library. Their lips met, soft and wet and lingering, and when they pulled away Kurt pushed his face against Blaine's neck. "I love you."

Blaine smiled. "I love you," he whispered into thick brown hair. His own gaze flickered towards the library. "So, your Highness. Now that you've tamed a dragon…what would you like to do now?"

Kurt hummed against his skin. "Well, to be perfectly honest, my skin and hair are in desperate need of a cleaning. I think a bath is in order."

Blaine smirked and cocked an eyebrow. He bent at the knees and lifted Kurt into his arms, one arm slung around the Prince's shoulders and the other hooked underneath his knees. Kurt gave a startled laugh and began to squirm in protest. "A bath, you say? I think I can arrange that." Blaine brought his lips close to the shell of Kurt's ear. "I find myself suddenly inclined to a bath as well. What say you we spare a chambermaid several trips to the kitchen and…conserve water together?"

The sound of Kurt's laughter echoed through the castle as Blaine carried him to his quarters.

And, as it goes with all the soulmates of lore, they lived happily ever after.

_**The End**_


End file.
